


Drinking Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

by LlmFr



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dis is probably an over used idea, Drinking, Other, Probably some weirdly written dialogue, Short Story, buh ima still doz it, cuz I canz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LlmFr/pseuds/LlmFr
Summary: It's nice in Grillby's, nice people, bartender, good drinks...Sans, for the life of him, can't remember a promise, it was important, he could've sworn...He ends up spilling confusing words...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look, a short! 
> 
> I've never done shorts before...

__Did you know that living at a bar was easy? That working at a bar was easy. That being at a bar was too.

No, a fool would you be thinking it wasn't such.

No, it was drinking that took the cake. Drinking that made people drink their loathing away, to make everything foggy and unrecognizable only to come back the next day sober and realize you messed up and your failures recognized. And your self hatred on the subject just keeps growing till 'Oops' once again your back with a glass bottle and a toxic breath.

It's quite a vicious cycle indeed.

Some people didn't notice that false words and faces that came with the 'special' drinkers either. The ones that even manage to lie with intoxication and mask their misery that landed them in the very place.

Sans had quite a bit a of practice with this art, having the moral obstacle of family at home meant he couldn't wallow in pity else they'd try to help waste time on his mess of sorrow. It's not like he had many friends to notice either. Heh. They'd probably run from his shit show if there were.

It's not even like he had such a hard life either, great brother, okay jobs, no stress what-so-ever.

Then why did he feel like ass on this specific day? It's not like he had any reason to, it was just... like he was missing some memory? Someone he should care about? He just felt shitty. Maybe it was just his minds excuse but he couldn't help but feel so. Even as he contemplated his mystery he found himself nursing the toxic drink. Another swig went. He guessed people started noticing his far-offness and decided to question it.

"Are you okay?" One asked. "you seem a little quieter than normal" another. "maybe you should stop?" All kind and considerate questions.

He always answer the same and calmly, "I'm fine." Always with some sort of unserious undertone that danced along the syllables. Joking and faked.

He couldn't help but be annoyed. What was it about his one drop of the mask called consistency that made them think he didn't always feel that way when he drank? What was it about him that made them care? They were wasting their time anyway. Really, he failed at possibly the most important thing he could do and didn't even know what it was! He couldn't question it either or else the weak feeling he got would just multiply from his mind piecing together different reasons for him to _actually feel_ like a failure. A disgrace.

He forced Papyrus to raise himself.

He couldn't do anything right.

He couldn't make others happy like they did him.

He couldn't do _Anything_.

He _forgot_...

And it was all this nagging feeling that made him so frustrated and continue this incredible cycle of ridiculous depression.

There was nothing to be sad about logically. But every time this particular day comes around he can't force his cold and bitter demeanor away. Something was missing. He just knew it was. He was giving grievances for a reason... right? Perhaps that was just his mind again. He really couldn't trust it sometimes. Hallucinations had staged that well in previous time. Some things just weren't... there; disappearing and reappearing. He's in Hotlands then in Snowdin and he knows it's not his doing, it's like the world is skipping around in a giant board game and he's simply a piece that needed to be sacrificed. It's almost like his memory. Everything's gone to shit with him. Everything and his life - and - and... Another chug.

This truly was the hardest part of being in Grillby's; drinking. Maybe he was starting to get a little tipsy but he couldn't tell. This was probably the most he's ever drank without passing out. New record. Probably not though, nothing in his mind was true after all. Nothing made sense. Maybe he's somewhere at home napping or doing his patrol and this was all some depressing dream his mind put him in. No one else noticed but him so it must be his fault. Maybe someone was actually fiddling with his soul and he simply didn't notice because he was dreaming. It would be more comfort than wondering in a naive state, unaware of the world, unaware of its memory, unaware of everything that made up his reality.

The bar was closing.

He emptied his drink before setting his hands down to lower himself from the stool. Sans needed to get home before it got too late and he already had enough to drink to warrant a sloppy walk to bed. He didn't notice the shift in light and simply continued his journey off the stool one step at a time. Why did he have to be so short?

Just before his slipper met the mahogany wood he felt a warm hand on his.

"Sans...", quiet and questioning.

He looked up to find, unsurprisingly, the fire elemental himself, flames a darker red than usual and low, flickering left and right.

Sans tried not to sigh in annoyance, knowing already generally what the elemental had to say.

"...stay..." came Grillby's light and airy voice.

He didn't bother to question why, only sliding himself back onto the stool and waited patiently for the elemental to elaborate. It was silent for a number of seconds, it wasn't uncommon however, Grillby always had trouble speaking for a multitude of reasons.

"...what's wrong?" There came the elephant in the room, full and open in a much more sinister manor than the more innocent portrayal the patrons that had adorned the bar had painted it.

Sans took his time to answer, not even thinking of a way to counter it but to phrase it in a way believable. He knew that more days were to come like this, more days where his laughing mask fell and his cold side lay bare. Might as well have some sort of explanation later to help out his future self. He was aloud to be selfish like that, he thought. He was too drunk not to be.

"You know that blood stopping feeling when you've forgot somethin' REALLY important out on a trip... but you can't remember what it t'was?" He was keeping a cheating stare at the walls, the floor and woods. He didn't venture to look Grillby in the eye, only lobbing his head which way and that to make it look like it their chat was only that of a casual one.

"..."

"And people keep tellin you tha' it was nothing, tha - that your just NUTS and that this has happened before..."

"Sans..."

"And that yer jus' playin a game of 'the boy who cried wolf', that your joking and lyin' but you want ta yell at them and say that it's real?" Man he just could stop looking at his empty drink.

" But it isn't! And you know it isn't; you know that this has happened before, and - after all - facts beat everything... right?" Sans could feel his voice shaking but his mind simply hadn't caught up. No backing out now.

"Sans..." Grillby's voiced in a warning.

"And your nuts! Just _nuts_. No one believes you and your own mind doesn't believe you and no one believes you _because_ of your mind and now you've tailored your arrow too small and the wind has gone against you and you can't do _anything_  about it cause now your _shot_ and bleeding and _no one_ cares cause 'oh, he's lying again' and it just makes you so _mad_ because they call themselves considerate! ...and... and they are considerate, they're so DAMN considerate... and you should be happy...  
But you not? Your just --"

"Sans!" Grillby huffed.

Sans shot his eye lights to Grillby, almost startling in a way. Whatever Grillby had been ready to say was gone, now flabbergasted at the sight.

Sans was... crying. His friend and joker was crying. The person who lit everyone's day with laughter was crying.

A peculiar sight.

" _What_?" Sans' voice was shaking. Badly. How had he not noticed before? He had but... was it that bad during his pointless rant?

When he really studied Grillby's face he noticed that the bartender wasn't looking at his eyes, he was looking at his... face? Sans looked down. His soul felt cold when he saw why. Magic was pouring from his eyes and onto the bar, a transparent blue that swirled in an almost false of light sense with the wood under it. Sans couldn't help but laugh. He was crying. HE WAS crying. Why? He didn't know. And it was just so funny because Grillby didn't either! After decades, the first time he cries in decades, and he doesn't know WHY?! What a cruel joke! He was the funny guy right? He should know why, he should know the punch line. But he didn't! And yet it was so funny!

 

"...Sans, what's-- what's _wrong?_ "

That only fueled his laughter even more. He had to grab the edge of the bar to keep himself steady with his sorrow filled howling. The tears kept falling out too, dripping to the floor in his laughing hysterics.

"Hehe -eh, e-even you think I'm nuts! Heheh"

"No, Sans I didn't-"

"Oh sure! S-sure you do! Even I think I'm nuts! It's clear as day now ain't it!" His sobs got louder.

Grillby was frustrated and he didn't know why he did what he did next but that was the only thing he could come up with for an explanation. Swiftly in haste, Grillby grabbed Sans by the crook of his shoulders and hefted the short skeleton over the counter, taking the empty glass with it leaving it broken on the floor. Before Sans knew it, he was wrapped in a soft warmth. The elemental had wrapped arms around him, hands holding firm to his scapulae in rough support.

"... ** _Sans, stop_**." He spoke firmly.

Sans instantly obeyed, taking the few moments of lucidity to take breaths he didn't know he forgot to take.

"...Sans, nothing is wrong. Your fine. No one thinks that."

Sans stayed silent, opting such after rethinking his actions. He spoke too much, word vomit perhaps. He wanted to laugh some more, Grillby really was a great bartender. He listened far too well and knew the times to cut someone off. He was just so genuine.

Sans didn't deserve the presence of someone like that...

They stayed like that for several minutes, it wasn't like anyone was tracking the time and Sans found that it helped him tremendously. He was actually getting sleepy by the time Grillby put him back down to seat on the bar counter. The counter creaked ominously in the silence with the light pressure from Sans' meager weight. His tears felt gross and flaky on his bones, a quiet reminder that made him regret getting those one too many drinks. He tried to wipe them off but it turned out they stain pretty well.

"Sans..."

He took a deep breath before answering in a broken and raspy voice, "...yeah?"

"I won't pretend to know what's going on with you... but, everything's fine." He's right. "No ones pushing you to do anything." Correct.

"You-you..." he paused to think of something,"you need to forget..."

Sans waited for him to elaborate.

"You, this is starting to happen too much, your... this isn't healthy. Not just you drinking but... the way you've been acting... lately..." he took a deep and painful breath, "I-I'm not the best with advice but... my best one has to be forget. Whatever this is... its doing more harm then good."

Forget, he already had.

Forget what then? What is their to forget?

He must've spoke out loud because Grillby miraculously answered his thoughts.

"Just forget **_this_**..."

The long put-off sleep Sans had avoided was slowly creeping up into him. His lids threatened to fly like a butterfly and his mind was losing his attention. He only had the capacity to hear the first part of Grillby's breathless speech.

Just forget...

It sounded like such a great idea...

  
~~~

Somewhere, far away, in some inconceivable space in equally unimaginable distance, there was a weeping figure. Cold and frail with bones long melded into formless shapes with a black veil dripped over them.

He mumbled in a language long torn out of the timeline.

**_You said you wound never forget..._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I wuz gonna upload dis yesterday buh it was late an I didn't feels like adding tags and what's-it's, so dis be goin up in da mornin of today
> 
> ~~~   
> Edit:
> 
> As I'm rereading dis I realize dat dis was horridly confusin. Jus... jfc...
> 
> I mean, da informations all dere, it's jus... it's literally jumbled XD. I guess in a way it's accurate to how a drunk rambler would talk buh omg it communicates nothin. 
> 
> If you decipher it consider it an achievement an rethink your life choices in readin dis fic.


End file.
